


not trying to be your part time lover

by nightcalling



Series: every night, every day (how about every lifetime) [2]
Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightcalling/pseuds/nightcalling
Summary: It’s all smooth-sailing until Tom grabs the doorknob on the front door and twists, hitting into a hard click that doesn’t relent, even after Tom grips harder and starts yanking until the hinges creak.“Will,” Tom says.“Tom,” Will says. He has a bad feeling about this.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Series: every night, every day (how about every lifetime) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857874
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	not trying to be your part time lover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tomandcherry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomandcherry/gifts).



> This is established Will and Tom from the “caught my heart” universe, written for Alice. Happy birthday, Alice!! I love you so much, and I had a fun time writing these boys again. The tone of this came out more comedic than I planned, but I hope you enjoy their shenanigans. <3
> 
> I feel compelled to mention that while editing this, I realised this is very thematically similar to Betsy's [keep hold, don't let go](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691131) series, so please go read that too if you haven't already.
> 
> Title is once again from “What a Man Gotta Do” by The Jonas Brothers.

When Tom utters the words “I want you to come over” that morning, Will knows exactly what Tom means. Tom gets a sort of determined glint in his eyes whenever he’s set his mind on an objective that he plans on seeing through to the end. His fists will ball up, looking like they could land quite a nasty punch if they wanted, and his chest will puff out as he raises his chin, as if Tom is trying to make himself look taller and more menacing.

It doesn’t usually work. Even if Tom stands on his toes, he only barely reaches Will’s height. For some reason, Tom doesn’t seem to realise that it’s his words, not his physical stature, that commands Will’s existence. All Tom has to do is say the word, and Will is more than happy to comply with whatever request that Tom has in store. It was how the universe threw them together in the first place, after all. _You keep hold of me_ , Tom had said. _You need to trust me_ , Tom had said. Will kept hold. Will trusted him. He hasn’t let go since.

Despite all that, it’s endearing, watching Tom try so hard as if he doesn’t already have Will wrapped around his little finger. So, Will lets Tom try, lets Tom turn those determined eyes on him, feeling himself fall deeper into them every time.

Anyway, about that morning. Tom doesn’t have any deliveries planned for the day, but Will mentions offhand that MacKenzie ordered him to pick up feed for the horses, so Tom offers his services.

“I own a bicycle for this very reason,” Tom says proudly, arms placed on his hips like he’s conquered the known world.

“The cherries on your mother’s orchard would say otherwise,” Will replies.

“The cherries know that you are more important than they are,” Tom says easily, pulling Will down by the neck for a kiss on the nose, pressing those soft lips of his into Will’s skin. “They’ll understand.”

Will smells apple pie on Tom’s breath, sweet and tart. The only way to find out if that’s indeed the case is to kiss Tom directly on the mouth, so Will does.

“Your mother’s trying a new recipe?” Will asks after leaning back, keeping his arms linked around Tom’s waist. Even the summer heat isn’t enough to dissuade Will from holding Tom close.

Tom grins, bright and brilliant. “You could tell? I had two slices for breakfast.”

“And you didn’t think to bring me a piece,” Will says, shaking his head and pinching Tom on the ear. “I’m starting to reconsider this relationship of ours. What am I getting out of this?”

And that’s when Tom merely presses closer, chest flush against Will’s, and says very seriously, “I want you to come over.”

Even if Will hadn’t automatically understood Tom’s intentions, the light squeeze that Tom applies to Will’s arse would’ve given the truth away. Still, it’s nice to have confirmation that it wasn’t inside Will’s head. It’s nice to know that they’re on the same wavelength, hearts tuned to the same frequency.

“Alright,” Will says before kissing Tom once more. “But we need to get the feed first.”

Tom sighs, very dramatically and with his entire body, as if he hadn’t been the one to offer to help. Then, he orders Will to get on the bicycle seat behind him.

It’s not the first time Will rides as Tom pedals, but it is the first time they do it with the trailer attached. If Tom struggles with the additional weight, he doesn’t give any indication of it. Has he been practicing? Will stifles a laugh, his mind conjuring up mock images of Tom forcing Joe to sit behind him to be his test subject.

Will wraps his arms around Tom again as they race against the morning breeze. _You keep hold of me._ Will keeps hold, even after arriving at the market. There’s no reason he needs to let go. They can each carry a bag of feed while holding hands.

~

The thing with Tom is, his words carry a lot of weight, but they’re not enough to completely divert all obstacles out of his way.

They successfully deliver the feed to MacKenzie’s ranch. They successfully unload all of the bags and pile them inside the barn, even if they’re risking MacKenzie’s wrath by letting Tom step foot on the property. They successfully pedal back to the Blake orchard, the trip being much quicker now that it’s downwind. It’s all smooth-sailing until Tom grabs the doorknob on the front door and twists, hitting into a hard _click_ that doesn’t relent, even after Tom grips harder and starts yanking until the hinges creak.

“Will,” Tom says.

“Tom,” Will says. He has a bad feeling about this.

Tom turns, fingers still curled around the doorknob. “I don’t have a key.”

“How—” Will looks at Tom, the way Tom is growing sheepish. “Your mother’s not home? Joe?”

Tom stares at him as if Will asked why the grass is green or why the sky is blue. “I mean. It’s because I knew they wouldn’t be home until tonight that I…”

Tom flushes, red crawling across his skin, and Will has no choice but to laugh. This is when Tom becomes embarrassed?

“Okay,” Will says. He’s used to this by now, even if this is a whole other level of air-headedness. “We can do it on a different day.”

Tom holds out a hand. “No. Give me a second.”

Tom steps off the porch and surveys the house from left to right, then back to the left again. He grumbles against his fist for a few minutes. Will waits.

“Oh!” Tom manages to perk up with his entire body. “The window!”

The window? Will has a _really_ bad feeling about this. He follows Tom around the house anyway, stopping when Tom stops, looking up when Tom looks up.

“The window,” Will repeats because there is indeed an open window. It’s not very high up, only one story above their heads, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t a terrible idea.

“The window,” Tom says with an affirming nod of his head. “Boost me.”

Will looks around, hoping there are other inanimate objects that he can offer in his stead, but he doesn’t see any crates, a rubbish bin, a ladder—nothing. How is it that these objects miraculously disappear when they’re needed the most?

“Can’t we,” is all Will is able to get out before Tom marches up to him, grabs his wrists, and pushes them together.

“Come on,” Tom says, shaking Will’s arms, “palms out.”

Tom’s cheeks are still red from all the pedaling, and Tom’s breaths are still fighting their way back to a normal rhythm. Will didn’t notice until now because he was too busy trying to decide how to tell Tom that they could just find a secluded spot in the nearby forest and get it done there, but that’s probably not very gentlemanly.

Listening to your boyfriend, on the other hand, is gentlemanly. Will extends his fingers, flattening his palms.

Tom rolls his eyes, then drags Will closer to the window, pushing him down by the shoulders. Will ends up squatting right in front of Tom’s trousers, and Will almost considers mentioning that he could blow Tom out here instead, but Tom is too preoccupied with the task at hand to notice the suggestiveness of their positions.

“Hold still,” Tom orders. He braces one foot against the side of the house, using it as leverage before hopping up onto Will’s hands.

Tom has gotten a little heavier since the last time Will picked him up, but this might be a result of Will’s knees still being slightly weak from the imagery of taking Tom apart against the house. Will heaves in a deep breath, steadies his legs, then stands back up. When he raises his head, Tom is looking down at him.

“What?” Will asks. He cranes his neck, trying to get a glimpse of the window, but his visual field is filled with nothing but Tom. “Still too far?”

Tom shakes his head. “You, uh,” he clears his throat, “I forgot how strong you are.” His cheeks are as red as ever, though Will has a feeling that this time, it isn’t solely because Tom is recovering from all the exercise.

_I’ve got more exercise in mind for you_ , Will’s brain very helpfully supplies. Will shakes the thought away, shoving it to the back of his mind for after they’re actually inside the bloody house.

“Will you grab the window already?” Will says, shaking his arms a little, making Tom flail about before hooking his fingers on the windowsill.

“Arse,” Tom says, but he grabs the window in earnest. “Can you push me a little more?”

Will pushes, but despite what Tom said, Will is only strong to a certain extent. His shoulders give from the weight, nearly letting Tom tumble to the ground before Will digs an elbow against the side of the house.

“Tom,” Will says after a deep inhale. Great, now _his_ face feels red, and not from the type of exercise he’d prefer. “It’s alright. Why don’t we go do something else? Lauri’s making that chicken with gravy that you like again. Elizabeth and Grace will be happy to see you too.”

“I’m so close,” Tom says, ignoring Will and kicking him slightly in the chest before looking up at the window again. “Come on, try again. Push harder.”

Will sighs. This is not how he imagined his afternoon going. But, he pushes harder. Anything for Tom.

Tom groans out of frustration when his fingers slip. “Why aren’t you taller?”

“Why didn’t you remember to bring a key?” Will shoots back.

“I said to push harder!”

“I am pushing harder!”

“You are not! I’ve seen you push a whole plough by yourself. You can do better than this. Put your back into it!”

“Tom, I swear to God that I am pushing as hard as I possibly can—”

“You know,” a voice interrupts, “most people try to escape through the window after a tryst, not the other way around.”

Will freezes, which is a terrible mistake because all of his muscles stutter at that moment, causing him to stumble backward and release Tom’s feet, leaving Tom half-flailing against the wall. Will turns, searching for the owner of the voice.

Joe is standing there, head leaned against one of the wooden posts of the house, arms crossed, and half-eaten apple in hand. He’s not wearing work clothes as he normally does whenever Will visits the orchard, so clearly he just came back from town. Does Joe have the world’s best or worst timing? Will can’t decide.

“Hello,” Will says.

“Hi,” Joe responds. He takes a bite out of the apple, chewing in a manner that could mean he’s either unimpressed or making fun of them. It’s probably both.

“How long have you,” Will says.

“Long enough.” Joe takes another bite out of the apple, tosses the core to the ground, then glances up. “Hey, Tom.”

“Joe?” Tom says, then accidentally lets go of the windowsill. Will doesn’t get the chance to move away before Tom drops arse-down straight into his arms, sending them rolling onto the ground.

“Ow,” Will says. He opens his eyes, trying to decide if the world is spinning or if it’s inside his head. Does he have a concussion? He really hopes not.

A hand—no, two hands, actually, now that he’s blinked and can see more clearly, are extended in front of his face. He grabs hold of one of Joe’s hands, and Tom follows suit, allowing Joe to pull both of them up with a strength that can only exist in somebody who performs manual labour for a living.

“Your hand is still sticky,” Tom complains, shaking his fingers free of Joe’s grip and dangling them in the air. “Couldn’t you have wiped it or something?”

“Oh yeah?” Joe says, stepping closer to Tom and swiping his inner palm against Tom’s right cheek, ignoring Tom’s _hey, what the bloody hell_. “Next time I’ll tell Mum you’ve been sneaking around behind her back.”

“We weren’t sneaking around,” Tom grumbles, wiping his cheek with his sleeves. He looks down at the stain, then frowns at Joe. “I live here too, you know.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Joe says. “I meant…” He looks pointedly in Will’s direction, then back at Tom, and grins wickedly. “You know.”

Tom flushes red, setting a record for the number of times he’s gone bright as a tomato in a day. Will is torn between feeling amused and irked—amused, because it’s always a delight seeing Tom this way; irked, because he wanted to be the one to draw it out of Tom.

Will catches Joe’s attention with a wave of his hand and says, “We’re sorry that we caused trouble. But, Tom is a grown man. He can make his own decisions. That’s why you send him on all those delivery runs, isn’t it? Because you and your mother trust him?”

Will senses Tom staring incredulously at the side of his head. He probably shouldn’t be getting on Joe’s bad side, but he extends an arm and wraps it possessively around Tom’s waist anyway to make his point.

Joe’s burst of laughter is not the reaction Will was expecting, though that’s really on him—Joe _is_ Tom’s brother, after all. Tom must’ve gotten his cheeky nature from somebody.

“Okay, you win,” Joe says after subsiding his laughter. He’s still hugging his stomach, trying to stifle the last of his giggles. He looks up, takes a look at Will and Tom, then doubles over again.

“You broke him,” Tom says. He pokes the top of Joe’s head, where the spiral of Joe’s hair is.

“He asked for it,” Will says. He’s not sure what’s so funny that it warrants listening to Joe disturb the afternoon peace for so long.

“It’ll take more than that to break me,” Joe says, finally calming down. He’s wearing a wide grin, eyes sparkling under the sun. Yeah, he’s definitely Tom’s brother. “But you came close. Nicely done, Will. Always had a feeling you were a good one, even back when Tom was stalking you like the pathetic sod he is.”

“Joe,” Tom whines, pulling on Joe’s sleeve and darting his eyes between Joe and Will. “Piss off with that, you’re making me look pathetic.”

Will smiles, wrapping a hand gently around Tom’s wrist and pulling Tom closer. “Impossible.” He lifts Tom’s hand and presses a kiss to the middlemost knuckle. “Everything I learn about you makes you even more charming.”

Is that too much? Maybe. But, Tom broke the record yet again, and this time, it was Will’s doing.

“Alright, I get it,” Joe says, putting his hands in the air. “You two want some private time. Doesn’t mean you have to rub it in us single fellas’ faces.”

“ _Joe_ ,” Tom bites out, voice strained. “Would you stop being a twat and go away?”

Joe feigns hurt. “And here I thought you’d be grateful that Mum forgot her parasol and sent me back to fetch it. It’s the only reason you’ll be able to get into the house, after all. Unless you want to try your window plan again.”

Tom looks incredibly pained, probably because he knows Joe is right and he’ll have to suck it up. Tom is many things—a hard worker, the bravest soul on Earth, the person that Will loves—but even Tom isn’t immune to the unfortunate downsides of being a younger sibling, even if they are few in number.

Joe grins, then tosses a key in Will’s direction without warning. It bounces on Will’s chest before Will catches it with the other hand that’s not holding Tom’s.

“Just be sure to make yourselves decent by suppertime, alright?” Joe asks, already turning around to leave. “That’s when Mum and I will be back. Probably. Have fun.”

Will watches Joe go, and when Joe disappears down the street, Will looks back at Tom.

“When’s suppertime?” Will asks.

“Uh.” Tom looks at Will with dazed eyes, evidently still trying to process the past ten minutes. “Six? Around then.”

“So we’ve got plenty of time,” Will says. Pink begins to adorn Tom’s cheeks again, and Will laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re going modest on me now. Not after you’ve pedaled so hard and whisked me back to your house.”

Tom weaves his fingers with Will’s. “Never.”

Will smiles, tightening his grip and letting Tom pull him towards the front door.

~

After they finally make it inside the house, Tom leads Will up the stairs, guiding him like that day in the tunnels, like during their first trip through the market, like on this journey through life they’ve been on together, finally arriving at this moment—as Tom has always done.

Tom guides Will now to the bed, keeping their hands linked together like they were made to hold on to each other.

And, perhaps they were. Perhaps they were, Will thinks as he pushes Tom’s braces off Tom’s shoulders. Perhaps their hands were always meant to find each other, Will thinks as he unbuttons Tom’s shirt, exposing that milky white skin. Perhaps their hands fought through so many days of toil and heartache so that they could find refuge in each other, Will thinks as he traces his lips across Tom’s chest, trailing down to press a kiss to the scar that’s still dark but slowly fading.

Perhaps _they_ were always meant to find refuge in each other, Will thinks as he holds on tight to Tom, hugging him close and whispering to him, _I’m here, I love you, I’m yours._

Perhaps there’s enough kindness in the world after all, Will thinks as he lies there on the bed, watching Tom towel himself off, back and arse exposed and never looking more beautiful.

Perhaps it’s Tom who makes the world kind, Will thinks as he welcomes Tom back with open arms, wrapping them around Tom’s waist and burying his head into the crook of Tom’s neck.

_You keep hold of me_ , Tom had said. _You need to trust me_ , Tom had said.

Will is keeping hold. Will is trusting him. He’s not going to let go.

~

He’s _certainly_ not going to let go even after the remaining two Blakes come home and he and Tom need to scramble to throw their clothes back on. Apparently, Tom forgot to lock the door behind him and now they have ten or fifteen seconds before they’re caught naked, literally.

It’s difficult, trying to dress while holding hands, but it’s not impossible. Nothing is impossible if Tom is next to him.


End file.
